


To Fix You

by iwriteangstonly



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Betrayal, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:41:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwriteangstonly/pseuds/iwriteangstonly
Summary: When Steve leaves for a better life, Bucky breaks down. He can't move, can't think, can't feel. Are Sam's attempts to save him pointless? Can he learn to live without his one and only constant?
Kudos: 1





	1. Don't Leave Me

Bucky ignored the tears forming in his eyes as he saw the platform was empty. He could tell himself it was fine, that Steve was going to show up any second, but he knew it wasn’t true. He knew from their last embrace that Steve was leaving him. He knew that he could never compete with Peggy, that he wasn’t enough for Steve.  
In the corner of his eye, a figure appeared on the park bench in front of the lake. He knew the shape from the curves to the edges, but it was different— wrong. Immediately he realized what had happened and his eagerness to see Steve disappeared in a flash. He couldn’t. If he came face to face with his... best friend, he wouldn’t be able to hold it together. When he told Sam to go ahead, he received an expression of bewilderment at his gesture. They had always competed over who Steve was closer to, and Bucky wasn’t the type to resign so easily. Sam had never wronged Steve—he was worthy of the shield, the title, and the friendship—which Bucky expressed to Sam with his eyes focused on the ground.  
“Go,” he repeated gently. As he watched Sam walk away, he realized how truly alone he was. No matter what state he was in, he had always had Steve. He never experienced a world where he couldn’t rely on his best friend, until now.  
Everything felt cold and unsafe. His mind felt chaotic and cluttered, and his heart was throbbing with the sensation of betrayal. Suddenly, he realized that he wasn’t on his feet anymore. He felt the rough bark of a tree against his back, and he was vaguely aware of the damp grass soaking through the denim of his jeans. His glassy eyes fixated on something coming towards him, blocking the Sun from his eyes. There was a shield, too familiar, held at the figure’s hip in an awkward manner that suggested that it had never been there before.  
His brain told him to respond, but he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to be responding to. He felt it again—an odd jolt of familiarity that faded within seconds. He was deaf to the world until two hands placed themselves on both of his shoulders.  
“Barnes?” It was Sam, he realized. His voice was a tone he had never heard before— it was gentle and careful.  
“I—“ he started, “I’m so goddamn selfish,” he muttered before tipping his head back against the tree supporting him. Sam made a questioning noise, low in the back of his throat. “I believed him. When he told me he was with me to the end of the line, I believed him. I wanted him to stay for me. I wanted—“ he choked. Sam’s hands stayed put, one soothingly rubbed out the knots in Bucky’s flesh shoulder.  
“He wants to talk to you,” Sam said lightly, feeling the unfamiliar urge to protect Bucky. Tired blue eyes met his own, and he realized they were what gave away his advanced age and his past. It was the haunted, dead-eyes that greeted him, and for some reason, he would throw away his shield to get rid of that look. As Sam stared into his ancient eyes he got a small burst of something different, something new. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.” Bucky look confused, so he had to find the words to elaborate. “We both knew what he was gonna do. I should’ve done more to stop him. Now you’re upset and it’s my fault and, James, I’m so damn sorry.”  
He stood there speechless as Sam apologized for something inevitable. “Don’t,” he said, “It’s not your fault that we’re not enough for him.”  
Sam’s heart broke for the broken man, and an overwhelming jolt of sympathy flooded his veins.  
He heard the careful tread of footsteps behind him, so he sidestepped and left them alone. The second Bucky was out of his sight, he felt a strange pang in his chest. This strange feeling led him behind a tree, where he was in earshot of their conversation. He needed to know what was being said, and his brain told him, “just in case”. It wasn’t jealousy, and it wasn’t protectiveness exactly—it was a feeling entirely foreign to him.  
“Buck?” questioned the elderly man approaching him. He knew the voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond. “Bucky,” he said more insistently, a stern tone overtaking his original delicacy. The most Bucky could do was incline his head. “Buck, I’m sorry.” Bucky stared at him, his eye and glistening with unshed tears. “I did it so I could be happy.”  
“You were happy here,” he whispered. “We were happy here!” The tears now rolled freely down his cheeks, and his words were punctuated with sobs. His volume rose steadily along with his hurt. “You promised me—“ he cried angrily, “You promised me you’d never leave me.”  
Steve flinched as he screamed his accusations. Quickly rushing to his defense, he replied, “I’m here. I didn’t leave you. I’m back.”  
“You left! You aren’t my Steve anymore! My Steve died the second he left, and you took his place. I can’t— I can’t believe I ever loved you,” he finished softly as defeat clogged his throat.  
Steve froze, astounded. Bucky had loved him. Bucky had trusted him, and he shattered it. He took in the sight before him: his best friend collapsed against a tree, tears running down his face. His sobs sounded like they were being ripped from his chest. He was in so much pain, and the world just turned its back.  
“Buck, I-“ he started before being interrupted by Sam running over and crouching by Bucky’s side.  
“Steve, go. You’re making it worse,” he said strictly. Bucky moved impossibly closer to Sam and clung to him dependently. Sam bowed his head and whispered small reassurances into Bucky’s ear. Steve stood still, watching in awe the sight before him. This was his job. He was supposed to take care of Bucky when he broke down. He gave Sam the shield and the title, but he had no idea that he’d given him Bucky, too.  
“Steve, go!” He berated. Steve turned and left slowly, and Sam turned his attention back to Bucky. “Hey, Barnes.” The voice that had just been so angry turned soft and concerned. “Are you with me?” Bucky replied with a halfhearted grunt.  
“C’mon, James,” he said as he wrapped his arm around the soldier’s waist. “It’s about to rain. We can go back to my apartment.” He helped him to his feet, keeping his arm securely around him. Bucky stumbled, but eventually caught his balance while leaning heavily on Sam. “Let’s get you home,” he said soothingly.


	2. Stoic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam works desperately to fill the gaps left behind when Steve left.

“Hey, Barnes, you still with me?” He had put almost his entire body weight onto Sam, and his face was paling rapidly. “We’re halfway there.” They had their arms wrapped around each other, but it seemed to only barely keep him standing. His feet dragged, and he had never felt so tired in his long life. Sam was panting and sweating under Bucky’s weight, and both of them were having trouble staying upright.   
Though it had seemed impossible, they eventually made it back to Sam’s apartment. The pair hobbled through the front door and sighed in relief. Sam immediately rushed to the couch and gently set Bucky down. He made quick work of removing his shoes, and then his own. He threw them to the space next to the door, then refocused his attention on Bucky.   
“Hey, I’m right here. What do you need me to do?” He asked. There was no reply, and he had hardly expected one. “Can you nod your head for me?” He requested gently. Bucky complied. “Will you shake your head for me?” He asked. Bucky complied. “Okay, we can work with that,” he muttered to himself.  
“You’re covered in mud and sweat, do you want to shower?” He wasn’t expecting much of a reaction, but Bucky nodded his head solemnly. This satisfied Sam, and he guided Bucky to his feet and led him to the bathroom. He delicately sat Bucky on the edge of the bathtub and turned to leave. He flashed Bucky an encouraging smile and closed the door behind him.   
After ten minutes, the water still hadn’t started running, and Sam was growing more and more concerned. He finally decided to go check on Bucky. He padded through the hallway in bare feet, then carefully rapped on the door.  
“James? You okay in there?” After a minute without a reply, he slowly turned the handle and peered through the door. In the same place that he had been ten minutes ago, was Bucky. There was no indication that he had moved. “Barnes? Do you need help?” Bucky could only offer a small, ashamed nod in response.   
All of a sudden, Sam felt a rush of hatred. He hated that Steve left, hated that he had done this to Bucky, and just for a second, he hated Steve.  
“Okay,” he whispered as his hatred was washed away by a gentle compassion. He moved in front of Bucky and got down on his knees. “May I take off your shirt?” He asked gently. Bucky nodded slightly, so Sam slowly peeled the material off of Bucky’s sweaty torso. “Can you put your arms up for me?” Bucky did as he was told and Sam pulled the shirt over his head.   
He had to pause to take in the sight that was Bucky. His chest was glistening with sweat, and it was demolished by scars. Some were old and faded, almost the color of his skin. Others were purple and raised, and there were plenty of angry red circles where bullets have pierced him. What really got his attention was Bucky’s arm. The metal extended so much farther than he had assumed. It replaced his collar bone and probably a few ribs. If Bucky were to turn around, it would cover the entirety of his shoulder blade. The seam between flesh and metal was knotted with intense scarring that looked extremely painful. Sam was astounded—how had he not seen this before?  
“Do you want me to take off your pants?” He asked cautiously, getting flustered. The odd question somehow didn’t bother Bucky, so he nodded his head. Sam had never felt so aware of his every movement. He concentrated on every move of his fingers and carefully undid Bucky’s button and zipper. “Can you stand up?” Bucky slowly rose to his feet and immediately fell onto Sam. Sam managed to hold him upright as he helped him remove his pants. He had to ignore the fact that Bucky was almost completely naked and hanging all over him. He maneuvered Bucky to sit on the edge of the tub again, then braced himself for what was next.   
“Barnes, do you want to keep on your underwear?” When he shook his head no, Sam flushed from head to toe. He wanted to say no; tell Bucky just to leave them on, but he couldn’t force him to do anything. After all he had been through with HYDRA, he deserves at least a choice in every matter. Surprisingly, his need to take care of Bucky eliminated any other factor.   
“Do you need any more help?” Bucky’s eyes refused to meet his. “Barnes, it’s okay to need help,” he said reassuringly, “I can help you.” The fear in Bucky’s eyes faded slightly and he nodded his head once. “Is it okay with you if I take off my shirt and pants?” He thought, just for a second, that something had flickered behind Bucky’s dull eyes. He nodded, seeming unfazed again. He took off his outer layer of clothes, leaving him in boxers.   
He started the water, letting it get warm. He gently took hold of Bucky’s hand and placed it under the water. “Do you want it warmer?” Bucky nodded, so he pulled it slightly forward. “Is this right?” Bucky shook his head, and Sam turned the tap even further. The water burned Sam’s hand, but Bucky seemed unbothered. “Is this good?” Bucky nodded.  
Sam helped him to stand, then practically lifted him into the shower. He kept his arms around Bucky to steady him. He stepped in himself, and felt the burn of scorching water against his back. It took all his willpower not to duck out of the stream, but he stayed. He stayed for Bucky because Steve wouldn’t. He stayed because he had never seen a person so broken. He stayed because Bucky made him feel a way he had never felt before.  
He reached behind Bucky to grab his shampoo, then held it up. “This is all I’ve got for hair, you good with lavender?” Bucky nodded. Sam squirted some of the soap into his hand and glanced at Bucky’s greasy hair. “Do you want me to wash it?” Bucky nodded again. He reached out and threaded his soapy fingers through his Bucky’s long hair. He worked gently at the tangles and knots. After he was sure it was clean, he put his arm around Bucky and switched so that the water ran onto the suds.   
After he was sure his hair was clean, they switched again so that the water beat against Sam’s back. “Do you want me to wash your body?” Bucky nodded robotically once again. He grabbed his loofa and a bottle of body wash. “How does ‘fresh ocean breeze’ sound?” Bucky nodded, so he self-consciously started scrubbing his chest softly. Half of him felt embarrassed and flustered, but the other half felt some kind of normalcy. He moved the loofa to his right arm, then started onto his legs, staring pointedly at the floor.   
He never thought a super soldier could look so small, so helpless. Physically, he was massive, but his emotional state made him seem tiny and fragile. “Hey, James?” He questioned timidly. He looked up and almost met his eyes, so Sam continued. “How do I clean your arm? The metal one?” Bucky, through a mask of numbness, seemed vaguely surprised. No one ever even mentioned his arm. Everyone was so afraid of offending him, but Sam just seemed so genuinely curious. Sam was kind and gentle, and Bucky knew that he could be trusted. He could be trusted not to hurt or judge him.   
In this trust, Bucky found the strength to move, just so slightly. He reached out for a washcloth hanging over a thin bar. Sam’s pleased expression shone—Bucky would be okay, eventually. “Do I use soap?” Bucky shook his head. “So just the cloth and water?” Bucky nodded.   
He placed his metal hand on top of Sam’s outstretched palm. Sam examined it, brushing his fingers softly over his wrist and fingers. The steaming water made the material burning hot, but Sam was fascinated. He held the cloth under the water, then slowly went to work on clearing every small section of the arm. He worked slowly, tediously, thriving on the fact that he could help Bucky, at least with this. His water bill was getting driven through the roof, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.   
“Do you need anything else in here?” When Bucky shook his head, Sam turned slightly to turn off the water. Without the water, the air felt freezing. He helped Bucky out of the shower and wrapped him in a fluffy towel. Suddenly, he heard a hitch of breath next to him. When he looked over, Bucky was shaking slightly and breathing in short gasps. “James?” He immediately hooked an arm around Bucky’s waist as he started sinking to the ground. “James?” He asked, voice high with panic. Bucky’s breathing grew more erratic, and his violent shaking continued. “Shit,” Sam muttered, “shit!” They sank to the floor together, Sam still cradling Bucky. He knew how to deal with panic attacks—and he had on a million occasions—but Bucky was different. He couldn’t risk doing something wrong. He felt out of control, and began to spiral. Now, when Bucky needed him most, he couldn’t help.   
Suddenly, an idea crashed through his brain like a freight train and he desperately reached for his phone. He unlocked it and immediately dialed speed dial one. The line picked up instantly.   
“Sam, are you still with Buck? Is he okay?” The same momentary anger resonated within Sam. He had no right to act worried when he knew exactly what he was doing to his best friend.  
“Of course he’s not okay! You left him,” he scolded, careful that he wasn’t loud enough to scare Bucky. “But that’s not why I called,” he added solemnly, “Bucky’s having a panic attack and I don’t know what to do and he’s different but I know you’re really close so you can help and talk me through it—“  
“Sam, I need you to stay calm for him. What triggered it?”  
“I don’t know. We got out of the shower and—“  
“We? As in you showered together?” Steve rushed to ask as an intense jealousy filled his chest.   
“That doesn’t matter now!”  
“Right, um, did you yell at him or anything?”  
“Of course not!”  
“Does it feel cold where you are?”  
“The shower was really hot, so yeah.”  
There was silence on the line for a second, then an urgent response, “He can’t remember the last five years, so mentally he’s still fresh out of cryo. Get him warm and keep reminding him where he is.”  
“Okay.”  
“Call me when—“ he started, but Sam had already hung up. With his attention completely on Bucky, he tried to plan a course of action.  
“Hey, James,” he tried gently, “It’s okay. You’re with me, Sam, in my apartment. Can I pick you up?” Bucky made no indication of even hearing him, so he asked again. Without a reply, Sam gathered Bucky into his arms. It killed him that Bucky hadn’t consented, but he had to do something to help. He could feel the tremors racking Bucky’s body, and it hurt to think that he was going through so much pain. He carried him into his room and set him on the bed, then immediately wrapped him in the comforter. He sat down next to him, then pulled him into his lap. He threaded his fingers through his soaked hair and whispered in his ear. “It’s okay, James. You’re awake. You’re here with me. You’re safe, it’s okay.”  
Bucky’s emotionless facade finally broke, and he let out an excruciating sob. He screamed and he cried into the air. Sam kept his lips at Bucky’s ear, the soft skin brushing as he gently whispered. “Let it out. I’ve got you, you’re okay.”   
Suddenly, Bucky whipped around and muffled his wails into the crook of Sam’s neck. He wrapped his legs around Sam’s torso and latched on tight. Sam sat motionless as Bucky clung to him, contemplating what to do. He slowly lifted his arms to stroke Bucky’s hair.   
After a while, his sobs settled to whimpers, but he still held himself close to Sam. The silence was thick and suffocating. Bucky hid his face while Sam racked his brain for something to say. He glanced at the clock, seeing that it was two o’clock in the morning.  
“You hungry?” Sam asked gingerly.  
“Yeah,” Bucky muttered, his voice raw with misery.  
“Does Chinese sound good?” He suggested as he thought of the 24-hour place across the street.  
The simple mention of Chinese food brought a small spark to Bucky’s eyes, and Sam’s heart throbbed. Bucky could be happy again. He would get better.  
“Yeah,” he muttered.  
They ate in relative silence, only the soft sounds of eating as conversation. Bucky’s head rested in his hand as his eyes began to close of their own will.  
“Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll clean up and meet you in my room in a minute,” Sam suggested, finishing off his egg roll.   
Bucky muttered a halfhearted noise of agreement before sluggishly making his way to Sam’s room. Sam hurriedly washed out the containers and put the leftovers in the fridge. When he entered his room, he was met by a snoring Bucky, curled up on the far side of the bed. He looked so impossibly small, drowning in one of Steve’s hoodies. Sam smiled to himself, looking over the foreign peaceful expression on Bucky’s face. He leaned over the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip. He pulled the covers up over Bucky’s shoulders, hovering to watch the way his chest rhythmically rose and fell. The mattress shifted once again as Sam got up. As he turned to leave the room, he was startled by the sound of Bucky’s voice.  
“Where’re you goin’?” Bucky mumbled groggily, his Brooklyn accent slipping through and weaving itself beautifully with his words.   
“The living room— unless you want me to stay?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe.   
“Stay,” he murmured, “please?”  
“Of course.”  
Sam crawled under the covers as he realized how truly tired he was. Even through his fatigue, he felt a need to stay awake, to not let Bucky be alone.  
When he heard Bucky’s breath calm beside him, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
